Research and Development
by RazanurTuk
Summary: In the style of Magic Story; While the Gatewatch is dealing with the Eldrazi on Zendikar, another group of Planeswalkers is keeping an eye on a different threat to the multiverse - New Phyrexia.
1. Chapter 1

The corpse-pickers flew across what used to be the Quicksilver Sea. From his vantage, Secret-Taker watched their progress, eyes narrowed, whiskers twitching. To call what they did 'flying' was generous, he thought, but there wasn't really a better word for it. 'Ballooning', maybe? They flapped, sometimes, with small, fluttery wings that surely couldn't be of much practical use, and at others they expelled jets of steam and gas from inflated sacs hanging from their deformed bodies. Nothing they did was elegant, or entirely logical. Yet despite all this, they flew, and they did it fast and well. The phyrexians left a lot wanting in the design department, but they had function down pat.

Someone had told Secret-Taker that the Quicksilver Sea was a thing of beauty, once. Silver liquid, as far as the eye could see, shimmering islands of aluminum, and in the middle, the Lumengrid, seat of knowledge and progress on the plane of Mirrodin. Now it was a pool of black sludge, dragging at the edges of husked, hollowed spires as if it were trying to claw itself up, out, into and through everything that dared yet live on this cursed plane.

Ask any nezumi what the end of the world smells like, and they will say it smells like Takenuma, like home. Secret-Taker knew better.

He also knew that, for as bad as it was out here, it was far worse where the corpse-pickers were heading.

"Go to Mirrodin, Secret-Taker," the nezumi muttered to himself as he picked and hopped his way through metal spires, "It's important we find his body, Secret-Taker. Damn vedalken, if it's so important, why can't she come?"

The answer, of course, was because this was his job, and she was paying him. Most clients hired him for political matters; blackmail, vague threats, the occasional coup. After the dissolving of the Infinite Consortium, a void needed to be filled, and he was more than willing. The idea that someone would use his services for actually important matters hadn't really occurred to him.

Near the shore of the Quicksilver Sea yawned a wide tunnel entrance. The corpse-pickers belched and buffeted their way into the darkness within. On silent-padded feet, Secret-Taker followed.

The hallways were dark and eerily slimy. Secret-Taker slipped through them easily, finding clawholds in the pock-marked ceiling, hollows where strange blue orbs glowed coldly. It smelled oddly crisp, and entirely unnatural. Secret-Taker's nose hurt to breathe.

He tracked the corpse-pickers to a room filled with vats and tubes, and watched as they began to sort through the dead. They appeared to have mostly parts - Secret-Taker saw an arm here, a leg there - all were thrown into vats built into the floor. Secret-Taker assumed that was where the 'spare parts' went. Heads, notably, ended up somewhere else. Then Secret-Taker saw them pull out the body he'd been looking for.

The man was in a long coat, with large, once-shiny pauldrons and gauntlets. He was in one piece - mostly - though decay had already begun to set in. On Mirrodin (now New Phyrexia), decay often set in before death, anymore. The phyrexians down below chattered amongst themselves in strange, guttural noises, and one of them began hauling the dead planeswalker away. Secret-Taker followed.

They went up into a large, open cavern. Floating above was what looked like a bowl, filled with viscous, silvery liquid. Secret-Taker kept to the shadows, of which there were significantly less up here. The phyrexian drone carrying the body swept to the other side of the room. Secret-Taker cursed under his breath and raced to follow, bounding along the rim of the room, weaving illusion magic around himself as he did so. No one was looking his direction, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially here.

"Into the Meldweb!" A voice bellowed. Secret-Taker heard a horrifying amount of pleasure in the speech. He'd never heard the voice, but he knew immediately who it was. Jin-Gitaxias, phyrexian praetor. He looked down, to the shadowed area under the floating bowl, and saw a tall wiry figure, all long limbs and pointed head. The figure gleamed like polished steel, and it's voice was sharp as a blade, slicing the air and making Secret-Taker's ears press back into his head.

"Planeswalker, we shall see what secrets you unlock." The voice spoke again, somehow booming and silky at once. The praetor seized the body in one long-fingered hand, and with a quick stroke sliced the top of the skull open. A drone buzzed down, plucked the brain out and began rising with it. Jin-Gitaxias threw the body aside carelessly, his sharp face following the drone's path through the air. Secret-Taker watched from his vantage point as the drone delivered the brain into the pool. It sank into the silver liquid, ripples cascading.

"Lovely." Secret-Taker snarled. He threw back his cloak and grabbed the cryptex from his back, opening it and beginning to trace words into it in glowing blue light. The details would only stay in his mind so long before melting away. It was a strange trait for a spy, the forgetfulness he was plagued by, but he preferred to think of it as a bonus. He certainly sold it that way. No one could pry information from his mind if it was not present.

Once done he bounded off, slipping into a side passage and diving toward a shadow between two large pipes. He imagined a room as he did so, pristine and empty, cloven clouds in a crystal blue sky. Esper.

Secret-Taker landed on smooth, burnished steel, and breathed a sigh of relief that he'd aimed properly this time. He did not feel particularly like shunting all over the multiverse trying to stick the landing. He hated going to Lexica's place - she was rather unforgiving with her defenses. Anything other than an exact planeswalk to an exact spot and one could wind up literally anywhere. She claimed it was random, but he'd accidentally ended up on Ravnica enough times to feel that she'd rigged it against him somehow.

One of the smooth walls slid back, soundlessly. Secret-Taker ground his teeth, the air pressure difference making his ears hurt. Lexica claimed it was important to keep the landing area airtight, something about making sure she knew the size of whoever came in. Vedalken nonsense, he was sure. She didn't have visitors; you needed friends for that.

"Were you successful?"

Her voice was sharp and almost accusing. Secret-Taker had worked with her long enough not to be offended - she always sounded like that.

"Am I ever not?" He asked. His memory for detail may have been ripped away, but of that he was still certain.

She stared at him with disdain only a vedalken could really achieve. The elegant filigree that made up her right arm and a good section of her torso glinted, slightly, as she shifted in a near-invisible moment of exasperation. "What did you find, rat?"

"Found that planeswalker's body. Unfortunately Gitaxian drones had gotten to it first. They were taking it back to Lumengrid when I tracked them down."

Lexica turned and strode further into her home. Secret-Taker followed.

"I hope you can be more specific than an entire city; we accounted for that well before we started planning this endeavor. It is rather important where inLumengrid they took his body," she said, "You did manage to track them further, didn't you?"

Secret-Taker didn't bother to hide an annoyed glare. "No, I stopped outside the city because I'm terrible at my job." He spat sarcastically. Vedalken, sometimes they were worse even than soratami. He opened his cryptex rummaged through the magic writing swirling within before pulling out the proper strand. His eyes scanned the illusory writing quickly.

"The drones took all the bodies - I think they'd just been out collecting whatever they could, they didn't seem to spend any more time on the walker than they did with anything else, at first - under the city. Started sorting through 'em. Looking for parts I guess. But one of them seemed to figure out what they had, and they took him up to the top of the city."

Secret-Taker cast a sly glance at Lexica. She knew more about New Phyrexia than he did. "Took 'em to a big room. Floating bowl in the middle of it, filled with silvery stuff."

"There's a dozen things they could be doing with a corpse, even if they knew he was a planeswalker, which they most certainly do." Lexica paused for a moment, staring vaguely into the middle-distance. If her head had been filigree like others of her kind, Secret-Taker imagined he would be able to literally see wheels turning. "What did they do with his corpse?"

"Gave it to the big papa," Secret-Taker replied, "Jin-Gitaxias. He knew what they had, believe you me. Really pleased with it, that one." He felt a shiver run down his back, the memory of that voice, sharp and smooth as ice, mostly intact through the clouded mesh of his recollections.

"They took his brain out and added it to that pool thing," he finished, "He said- um-" he perused his notes again, "Planeswalker, we shall see what secrets you unlock." He waved a hand and the blue writing vanished in a smoky wisp. "I got out of there at that point."

Lexica turned away and rubbed her pointed chin. Her brow furrowed. "During my brief but misguided service under Elesh Norn… There were whispers, rumors really, among the priesthood. The Gitaxians were working on some great thought-machine, that would merge together living minds and act as a repository of knowledge. At the time, however, it was no more than theory, even if the rumors were true." She paused, and Secret-Taker could sense the question coming.

He knew he wouldn't like it.

Lexica looked back at him. "Do you think you can breach the furnace layer?"

"Really? I don't know if you've ever been to the furnace layer, but it's called that for a reason, and unlike you miss blue-skin-metal-body, I have fur! Black fur!"

Lexica cocked an eyebrow and said nothing.

Secret-Taker snarled and gave up. "I suppose. Urabrask isn't exactly keeping a tight lid on it. What I'm looking for, on the other hand... That might get a little murky. Tracking down those refugees will be a hassle. I assume I'm looking for that golem friend of yours, yes?"

Secret-Taker did not want to go right back into a war-torn plane. What remained of Mirrodin was a mess, and while Secret-Taker was good at what he did, he didn't like taking risks. Under normal circumstances, very little would be able to get the nezumi anywhere near a plane like Mirrodin. Money was great, but you couldn't spend it if you were dead. Or phyrexianized.

But these were not normal circumstances. And Lexica was not a normal client.

"I wouldn't call him a friend, but yes, it'll be Karn you're looking for. If there are no signs of the refugees, we'll need to locate him elsewhere. We need to keep tabs on this development over the next several weeks. I'm not sure what they might be able to glean from a mostly dead brain, but if it's even a fragment of what Venser knew, we might all be in a lot of trouble. It's imperative, however, that you do not sabotage Jin-Gitaxias' work. Knowing what they're doing, for the time being, is far more important than stopping them from doing it."

Secret-Taker sighed, running both hands over his head. _Work, work, work,_ that was all Lexica ever did (and, since she was paying him, it was all he ever did, too). It had been weeks since he'd been back home on Fiora. He didn't want to think about how much political backstabbing he'd missed. Hell, they might have a new king by now. Was it so much to ask for a week to just relax and regroup? Secret-Taker glanced at the vedalken. Yes, yes it was.

"Okay, get in, find the golem. Let him know what happened. Get his thoughts on the matter, come back?" Secret-Taker transferred the information to a scroll as he spoke. He was not happy about the assignment, but he wasn't going to complain. Not aloud, at least. Secret-Taker was, above all, a professional. Some of that slipped from time to time in his dealings with Lexica, the blame for which he placed squarely on the vedalken's thin blue shoulders. He could only deal with _serious business all the time_ for so long before it became really grating.

"If you're worried about not being capable of accomplishing this successfully, I understand. Sulking around New Phyrexia isn't exactly the same as dancing through the shadows of some abandoned city street at night. The Praetors have eyes everywhere," Lexica said, "However your ability to do this does not affect our need for it to be done, and quickly. We need more information, information that Karn has, and Karn needs to know what we've discovered. We can't plan for the future while we're missing huge swaths of the present and past."

"And while I'm off risking my tail and probably melting to death, how are you going to be contributing to the cause?"

"I'll be on Innistrad, paying another colleague a visit."

"Who? That Gatewatch pretty boy? Or was it girl? It's hard for me to tell with humans."

Lexica started to respond, but cut herself off and took a breath. "The Gatewatch," she said, spitting the word with disdain, "are currently dealing with some issues on Zendikar. I don't think any of them have time to spare."

 _Dammit, so close._

"Besides, this issue is still contained. No need to call in the calvary just yet."

"B-Team it is, then, boss? Slightly-less-important-than-a-Gate-watch? Doorwatch?"

"Gideon's pointed himself at the biggest, loudest thing he can see, as always. Keep annoying me and next time I speak with him I'll point him at you."

"Oooh, spooky."

"Or maybe I'll tell Jace to swing by. You two can catch up."

"Night take that cursed mind-mage, and night take you as well," Secret-Taker snarled. "I'll find your damn golem."

"Excellent. With any luck, my associate on Innistrad will be sympathetic to our cause. If so, we both should be back here when you return."

* * *

Since Norn had seized control of the furnace layer, it was becoming more and more difficult to gain access to the inner sphere. The praetor was nothing if not thorough, and her hordes of fanatical subjects were like a well-oiled machine.

 _Hah. Well-oiled machine. Could have used a little less oil, this plane. Hahahaha._

Secret-Taker paused in the shade of some long-dead machine, it's broken body covered in rust and grime. He took a quick swig of water from a pouch hanging off his belt, panting like some kind of dog, and not the least bit ashamed of it. It was hot as oni-fire in the furnace layer, and Secret-Taker's thick, black fur was not helping matters. He was nearing the end of the rations he'd brought along, not really having expected it to take quite this long to track down his quarry. He was looking for an eight-foot golem made of silver, after all.

Resigned to the fact that he would have to just keep going until he found something, Secret-Taker returned the water-skin to it's home and bounded off once more.

 _Flesh._ Secret-Taker froze, nose twitching. With the heat and machinery it was a bit hard to tell, but he'd caught a whiff of something distinctly not-phyrexian. He got low, sniffing at the ground and at the walls, clawed hands running over the pocked surface. The mirran refugees were almost always on the move, unable to chance staying in one place long enough for Norn's ever-vigilant spies to catch wind of their presence. Secret-Taker was no bloodhound, but one of the perks of being a nezumi meant he wasn't terribly far-off.

Secret-Taker bounded down the hall, zigzagging into a high, small tunnel that curved up and over silent mounds of machinery, slipped through a crack barely the width of the cryptex strapped to his back, and ended up on a high ledge overlooking a small gaggle of run-down humanoids. In the dim, red light, the hulking and unmistakable form of Karn, silver golem, loomed.

"Ho!" Secret-Taker called, sinking back into the shadows so the others wouldn't know where the voice was coming from. It was better that way - some of these people could get rather... twitchy. "Mirrans! Friendly off-worlder, requesting to approach!"

Two mirrans whom Secret-Taker could assume were watchmen gave a violent start and drew their weapons. Karn held up a hand, and the mirrans relaxed, slightly.

"Show yourself and you may approach, visitor."

Secret-Taker hesitated. He weighed the option of just sending an illusion out, still not entirely sure the refugees wouldn't shoot at the first sign of movement.

"Up above." He called finally, deciding to take the chance. Karn had met him before, and while the mirrans may have been jumpy, the golem always seemed able to keep a cool head. Secret-Taker edged closer to the ledge, giving a sharp whistle once he was certain the others would be able to see him. He wasn't sure how many of the mirrans had been around his last visit, so he just hoped that a strange rat-thing was still a more welcome sight than phyrexianized... anything.

Karn's face seemed to fall as the golem recognized him. His face was already a pitiable thing, low brows over sad eyes and a mouth molded into a perpetual frown. Secret-Taker often wondered what kind of artificer had made such a sad creature, but had never felt it right to ask. Karn heaved a heavy sigh and waved a hand, beckoning the nezumi to follow. He led them through a makeshift door into a re-purposed tunnel, one end barricaded with scrap. Secret-Taker was grateful for the modicum of privacy it afforded.

"So, visitor, what news does Lexica Mir send for what remains of the Mirran people?"

"One moment." Secret-Taker muttered, pulling out his cryptex and beginning to fiddle with it. The glass, dark and frosted, barely visible under layers of intricate gold filigree, suddenly pulsed with cool blue light. After a few moments of toying with the various moving parts, he managed to crack the cipher, sliding the top off. Blue light began slowly filtering out, like mist on a cool morning. Secret-Taker mumbled to himself, one hand over the top, clawed fingers dancing quickly as they worked through the illusory notes stored inside the cryptex.

"First, information, then a question," he said, "Jin-Gitaxias has claimed Venser's body. Lexica believes he has completed at least a prototype of something called the 'Meldweb', by repurposing the Knowledge Pool in Lumengrid. She believes it can connect brains - living and possibly dead - into a single information bank. Venser's brain has been added to it."

Something flickered in the golem's sunken eyes, but his face remained passive. "And what is your question?" Karn whispered. "We don't have the resources to stage any attacks. We scarcely have the supplies to keep going the way we have. Koth has just regained his strength, and morale can't stand either of us going, or worse."

"We need to know what the Gitaxians could hope to glean from Venser's knowledge." Secret-Taker said. "Surely the phyrexians have other things they could do with an intact planeswalker's corpse, but they didn't use it. They need something from him, something they don't already have. Which..." Secret-Taker shrugged, feeling a little bad about what he was about to say, but there was no use tiptoeing around the truth. "Lets be honest, they already have most of what they could realistically need."

Unless Jin-Gitaxias was planning on using Venser to one-up Norn, maybe? The in-fighting had all but stopped, and it hadn't honestly helped much even when it was happening. The best scenario he could see if the Gitaxians and Norn's forces started fighting would be that maybe the furnace layer would be a tiny bit safer, for awhile, if Norn was forced to concentrate elsewhere.

"Its hard to say what exactly," Karn paused, pensive, "but if they knew even a fraction of Venser's work, they would know it was valuable. There's several things that could prove devastating, but we're already devastated."

Worry entered his tone, and the lines on his face deepened. "There is one thing in particular, a machine he built, since destroyed, that would be catastrophic. Hundreds of years ago, Phyrexia, a different world under a different leader, had devices to transport troops and weapons across worlds, even an entire stronghold. Their invasion failed, after some great sacrifice, and the ruins became Venser's eventual home of Urborg. He developed his own planar transportation from that wreckage, even before his spark ignited." Karn grimaced. "It seems that we have come full circle."

"They could use Venser's knowledge to move between planes?" Secret-Taker's usually apathetic voice was suddenly sharp with concern. This wasn't a problem for the mirrans alone, anymore, if that were true. If the phyrexians could get off-world, they could spread their 'great work' across the multiverse. "Is there any way Jin-Gitaxias could know about this? Does he know what to look for?" He asked, hurriedly writing onto a scroll, before the details slipped away.

"He already knows that he has enemies from places other than this world, and it is not much of a stretch to think he might seek out at least what Venser might have known about those worlds. Whether he knows specifically that Venser had an artificial means to planeswalk, however, is anyone's guess."

Karn's tone became stern "This has to stop here. We can't allow work to progress. We will need supplies, time, but let Lexica know that I won't stand by while Jin-Gitaxias tinkers away. I'll rally what support I can among the survivors, but I ask for supplies, if she has a way to send them. That will go a long way alone. Maybe long enough." Karn looked the nezumi right in the eyes, his steely gaze unflinching. "I expect to hear from Lexica directly when it's time to end this."

Secret-Taker continued scribbling away, etching blue letters onto thin air. He stared back at the golem, whiskers giving a small twitch. Something told him Lexica was not going to be on board with plan 'stop the praetor', though he couldn't remember why. As for sending supplies, he knew that would just end up being yet another job for him. But the survivors weren't going to last much longer in these conditions otherwise.

"I'll make sure she gets the message." Secret-Taker assured the golem. He finished writing, and the blue letters flowed into the cryptex, which shut with a very satisfying click, becoming dark and static once more. Secret-Taker slung the long tube over his shoulder, pulled up his hood, and vanished into the tunnels.

Normally Secret-Taker planeswalked as soon as possible after completing a mission, but something stopped him this time. Perhaps it was seeing just how poorly the mirrans were doing, but Secret-Taker decided to do a quick lookabout before leaving the plane. He went back up the direction he had come from, squeezing back through the crack in the wall and into a tiny tunnel. He froze. Up ahead was a strange whirring, chuffing sound. Secret-Taker pressed as close to the wall as he could get and waved a clawed hand. The air in front of him shimmered. Then he began creeping toward the mouth of the tunnel, peeking out into one of the larger rooms.

From around a corner a small machine floated/crawled into view. It's body seemed to be mostly one bloated sac that pulsed strangely. It floated a few feet from the floor, long, skinny arms with clawed fingers creeping along the ceiling, pulling it's floating body behind them. What passed for a head was little more than one huge, unblinking eye, darting around as it moved, taking in everything. Secret-Taker held his breath as it approached. He didn't know if it could see through illusions, and if it did, how much time he would have to act. Did it have a way of communicating directly with the other Gitaxians? If it saw anything at all, was it too late?

Secret-Taker watched as the machine's eye passed over the place he was hiding. The orb did not stop or pause in its search - apparently it could not see through illusions. Good to know.

Secret-Taker allowed the thing to pass him. As long as it didn't turn from the path, the mirrans should be fine where they were. Secret-Taker's eyes swept the room, looking for a suitably sized shadow for him to slip through. He found one not far away, in the shadow of a large pipe, and began moving toward it, visualizing Lexica's landing room as he did.

The machine let out a loud noise, it's eye swiveling and landing directly on Secret-Taker. The nezumi faltered and landed without walking, banging gracelessly off the pipe, concentration broken. The walking eye darted with sudden speed that seemed impossible given it's unnatural physiology.

Secret-Taker snarled, dodging as the machine swiped at him. He hissed, spinning and kicking out at the machine, sending it slamming into the wall. "Night take you, blighter!" He pushed off the floor, grabbing a pipe overhead and vaulting up. He landed squarely on the machine's bloated sac-body, grabbed onto it's eye with a clawed hand and ripped it off. The machine dropped, and let out a gross squelching noise as Secret-Taker's weight crushed the bulbous thing into the floor.

Secret-Taker glanced down the way he'd come. This thing hadn't even paid attention to him until he'd begun to planeswalk. He might just be being paranoid, but his instincts were screaming that it had _known_. He grabbed the machine and stuffed it into his sack. It didn't quite fit, and leaked gross black goo all over everything. Lexica could figure out what it had been doing. If Jin-Gitaxias had minions looking for planeswalkers specifically, that could be very bad. Secret-Taker grimaced, then stepped into the shadowed area behind the large pipe, appearing in Lexica's sanctum.


	2. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

* * *

This story is in a complicated spot at the moment, as it was originally based off a DD game from about 3 years ago and the plot ended up being basically War of the Spark. As such, I feel obligated to rewrite most of this so as to differentiate it from the canon. Most of my writing time is currently taken up with editing an original novel and writing another, so I haven't had time to spend on fanfiction. My hope is to at some point come back to this, as people seem to like it so far, but I can't guarantee when that will be.

Thanks to everyone who read this, I hope I will be able to bring these characters back sooner rather than later.


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